Incarceration

A funny thing happened on the way home from work on Friday...

Actually, it wasn't so funny - more on the side of irritating. Libby rang me just as I was leaving work to check where I was up to (having had enough of holding a miserable, post-vaccination baby). I answered the phone - as one gets into the habit of in an environment where the law in these matters is very slackly enforced (80% of drivers here seem to have a phone glued to their ear...) unfortunately my timing was bad, as the entrance and exit to the airport are liberally endowed with policemen (and women). Sure enough, despite my rapid remembrance of this fact and equally rapid 'goodbye' to Libby, I was pulled over and went through the usual rigmarole of having to hand over my licence to be inspected. As is the way here, the policeman then took his place in the passenger seat (pushing my colleague who was with me into the backseat) and directed me to proceed to the police station. This is just outside the airport - which is both a good thing and a bad thing; good because it was not too far to go; bad because if it had been a bit further he probably wouldn't have bothered...

Anyway, he did bother. After a few minutes sitting outside asking the somewhat rhetorical question "what are we going to do about this situation" (hint, hint) he told me I would need to pay Ksh5,000 bail (about £40) and would have to appear in court on Monday morning. Great... Fortunately my colleague had the requisite money, so saving me a trip to the cells in short order. So in I went to see another officer to give the necessary details (make of car, reg of car, address, phone number, make of phone!) and pay the bail. I left clutching my yellow 'cash bail receipt' with instructions to be at Kibera court at 8.00am on Monday.

Nothing like a pending court appearance to put a shine on your weekend...

As we do, I made arrangements with our Logistics Manager to provide me with an escort (being a stranger in a strange land can be somewhat daunting in these kind of situations where you have no idea how the system works). So 7.30 on Monday I ring him to enquire where he was and what the plan was. I was assured that our Logistics Assistant had been given instructions to meet me at the compound and take me to the court. This being Africa, the Logistics Assistant rings me at 7.50: "I thought we were supposed to meet at the court; I can't make it there in time - can you meet me there?!" Fortunately my electronic device located something labelled 'Ujuzicom Kibera Court Mpesa' (Mpesa being the local mobile phone banking system) and I figured the chances were reasonable this was where I was supposed to be. So following the map I made my way fairly deep into the Kibera slum (my first venture therein - the usual advice is not to go there alone as an expat) which is where the court (one of only three in Nairobi) is located. I arrived at about 8.02 and Mark (my escort) rolled up about 5 minutes later).

As the court didn't actually open it's doors until closer to 8.30 we spent an interesting half hour chatting to a friendly Indian gentleman discussing our reasons for being there (he was escorting someone in a 'conspiracy to commit murder' case) and why bribing policemen is no longer as safe as it used to be (apparently they pretend to accept a small bribe, and then threaten to use it as evidence against you to extort a bribe far in excess of the fine you are trying to avoid. The advice was 'only bribe a policeman who is standing outside the car - so you can immediately drive away. Never bribe a policeman who is actually sitting in the car.' Useful advice no doubt, but not some I will be taking advantage of...). Mark also encouraged me with the helpful information relating to my situation that 'if they don't want the money they sometimes sentence people to manual labour instead.

Come 8.30 and the opening of the gates we entered the building (airport security, but with the x-ray machine not working and no trays to put your valuables in - passed round the scanner by a lady police officer). Then the usual entertainment of trying to find out where we are supposed to be (used to be court two, but you need to go to room 21, but the case will be in court 6). We eventually find our way upstairs to Court 6 (signposted, but no label on the door) and take our seats. Lest you be misled by the word 'court' I should mention that it was only about the dimensions of a decent sized lounge - albeit a lounge equipped with lots of wooden benches, a couple of desks and two witness boxes. As there were only about 7 people seated (excluding the court clerk and a couple of police ladies) we were suddenly optimistic that it might be over more quickly than we thought. Should have known better...People trickled in for the next 30-40 minutes until there must have been about 70 people crammed onto the benches (including about 10 handcuffed together in pairs). Then the magistrate eventually arrived - no wig or gown :) Just a fairly ordinary looking little guy in a suit.

My optimism returned when I was the first one called up 'Daniel Richards' (as per my driving license...). Then a very rapid reading of charge "Charged with using a mobile phone while driving; true or not true?" (Surprising how different these options sound when compared to 'Guilty or not guilty' - slightly less room for interpretation). Clearly I could not deny the facts, so 'true' it was. The magistrate deliberated long and hard for all of about one and a half seconds before handing down his judgement: "Two thousand shillings, or in default, one month in prison". I said I would go with the shillings...Curious that two thousand shillings (about£16) is equated with one month in prison.

I then had to sit on a bench to the left while they started working through the remainder of the cases. There was one other English guy - who was called up next (obviously there is racial profiling in the Kenyan criminal justice system - either that or a huge coincidence) and then lots of other folk (a surprising number of whom were not there) were called. Each one received similar due consideration from the magistrate. The court clerk switched effortlessly from English to Swahili depending on who was being charged. Most of the guys in handcuffs seemed to be young guys who seemed to be charged with something to do with 'making noise with a car' (from what I could catch from the Swahili). Most people seemed to be up for two thousand shillings or 30 days. Except for the other white guy, who was fined five thousand for 'causing his vehicle to obstruct the road' and another two thousand for 'driving without a license'. As I had plenty of time to talk with him later (as you will discover) this actually meant that he had done a semi-U-turn in the entrance to Wilson Airport at 6.30 on Sunday morning (when obviously there was a whole lot of traffic to obstruct) and that he didn't happen to have his license on him. (Actually, he didn't have a Kenyan license at all, but he didn't think it particularly wise to point this out to the court). Interestingly, I was pulled over for performing exactly the same u-turn several months ago, and would have gone to the police station in that instance as well, except I called our Logistics Manager to come and assist, and it turned out that he was friends with the Officer, and managed to persuade him that I was just a stupid westerner who didn't know any better.

Anyway, back to the courtroom...

After every charge, plea and sentence was dealt with the kept piling people on to the same bench. Eventually it became fairly obvious that the bench was not going to hold any more people, so they pulled out the first five of us and sent us downstairs with two police officers. Our understanding was that we were going to pay our fines and then would be free to go. No such luck...

We were taken outside and round the back of the court to a corridor with a bunch more policemen, inside a padlocked door. Here they proceeded to right out names and details down in a large ledger. There then followed quite a period of confusion as we tried to work out what was expected of us next - the policemen didn't seem very interested in taking our money (surprisingly). It turned out that we were now being detained, pending payment of the fines that we have just been sentenced with...However, as we had not paid the fines (and so I guess were technically in default) we could not be released to go and pay our fines...?!? It was at this point that I was very glad that I had not come alone...

So I passed my bail receipt and the cash through the bars of the door who went off to try and find the cashier. There was some argy-bargy with the policemen on the part of my compatriot as they said that if he didn't have anyone to pay for him, they would be quite happy to send one of their number to go and pay on his behalf. Trusting fellow that he was, he declined this generous offer. Fortunately his 'escort' from the school where he worked turned up at that point (he teaches at the sister-school to the school where the kids go).

We were then ushered into a large holding cell, already occupied by a large number of very scruffy looking locals (presumably mostly from the surrounding slums). I was very glad that although there was a door (complete with small barred window) then didn't always shut it, and when they did, they didn't appear to lock it. I was also exceedingly glad that they hadn't relieved us of our mobile phones. So I was able to keep in touch with Mark as to how things were going (Any Progress? Yes, but slow? Any progress? They haven't released your file yet? Any idea how long? 20 minutes maybe - not entirely encouraging; this most likely being an African 20 minutes...) I was also able to text people at work, as well as ring Libby to let her know my current location....

Eventually, after alternating periods of boredom and tension my name was called, as Mark had successfully paid my fine and reclaimed my bail money, and I was released with my receipt in hand. The officer who had escorted us from the court became all jovial and wished me all the best, with a parting shot of 'try and stay away from those traffic cops'.

Anyway, all's well that ends well. I was all done and managed to get to the office by about midday, not much the worse for wear, and with a fairly interesting tale to tell.

I did sneak a couple of photos of the cell on my phone as evidence, but as I am not entirely sure of the legal situation surrounding taking such photos (not something I thought of at the time) this will have to be the proof:

So, the moral of  the tale is (obviously) don't talk on the phone while driving past a whole bunch of policemen...

:)